That he supposed that Grouchy would cross the Dyle at Moustier is certainly a fair inference from Marbot’s report and letter, from which we have made extracts above.[673] That he should have been so certain about it, however, is remarkable, as he had given Grouchy no instructions[674] of any kind whatsoever since he had sent him the Bertrand order, and that left him entire freedom of action.
Another very remarkable thing is that Napoleon should not have drawn from the fact that Wellington was awaiting battle the inference that he was expecting the assistance, and the powerful assistance, of Blücher.[675] At least it would seem pretty certain that he did not draw this inference, for he took neither of the steps which, if he had come to that conclusion, would seem to be dictated by common sense,—he neither attacked Wellington as early as he possibly could, nor did he do anything to make sure of Grouchy’s intervention until 10 A.M., when he sent him the order which we have given above.[676] If, on his return to the Caillou house at half-past three or thereabouts in the morning, he had sent an officer to order Grouchy to march towards the main army by the bridges of Moustier and Ottignies, he would have done only what the fact of Wellington’s confronting him, which he had just ascertained with his own eyes, should have led him to do.
The rain ceased, according to Charras,[677] at 6 A.M.; Vaudoncourt,[678] a much earlier authority, puts it at 8 o’clock; Van Loben Sels[679] says that the rain had diminished at break of day, but it was not until 10 o’clock that the atmosphere became clear; Baudus,[680] who was at the battle on Soult’s staff, says the rain ceased towards 9 o’clock. We may probably assume that the rain had ceased by 8 o’clock, and that in another hour, had Napoleon so chosen, he might have begun the battle.
This, in point of fact, he originally intended to do. He had issued an order in good season to the corps-commanders, that they should see that the soldiers cleaned their guns and got their breakfasts, so that at 9 o’clock precisely they should be ready to commence the battle.[681] Drouot, who was a distinguished artillery-officer, and was then acting as adjutant-general of the Guard, tells us[682] that Napoleon intended to begin the battle by 8 or 9 at the latest. But Drouot advised a delay of two to three hours on account of the condition of the ground, which the heavy rain of the past afternoon and night had rendered too soft for the rapid and effective movements of artillery; and Napoleon, who was himself an artillery officer, and always made great use of this arm, yielded to the suggestion, and determined to put off the main attack till towards one o’clock P.M.
About 8 A.M. the Emperor rode along the lines,[683] examining the enemy’s position, which he had already, as we have seen, inspected twice since midnight. He then dictated an order of battle, or, rather, an order of movement, the result of which would be that the army would be arranged in three lines, ready for the attack. This marshalling of the army was, according to all accounts, a magnificent and imposing spectacle; the bands played; the men shouted “Vive l’Empereur!”; the movement was skilfully designed and beautifully executed; but, except as a way of occupying the time, it would probably never have been thought of. It began shortly before nine and was over by half-past ten.[684] It showed at any rate that had it been thought advisable, the battle might have been begun at 9 A.M.
After this pageant “Napoleon passed before the lines and was received by immense, by enthusiastic acclamations.”[685] He then, shortly before eleven o’clock, dictated his plan of attack. Of this we shall speak later on.
One cannot but be struck with a recurrence here of the same error to which we have had occasion to call attention before,—namely, the error of acting on the probabilities of the situation when it is admitted that a different state of things may nevertheless, in spite of the probabilities, exist, and that, if it does exist, a wholly different course of action must be taken, or a fatal result will inevitably follow. Napoleon was, very likely, warranted in thinking it probable that morning that, what with the loss and demoralization consequent on their defeat at Ligny, and what with the interference with their plans which Grouchy with his 33,000 men could reasonably be expected to make, he himself was safe against any intervention on the part of the Prussians. But he did not and could not know where the Prussians were; in fact, he had great reason to believe that a large part of them had gone to Wavre; and at that very moment he thought it very likely that their action in going to Wavre would induce Grouchy to come to him by way of Moustier. If, then, the exigency called in the Emperor’s mind for this course on the part of Grouchy, why did it not equally demand from Napoleon the promptest action against Wellington, and the exertion of every means to make sure of Grouchy’s intervention? This criticism is, in fact, only an extension of that made in reference to the step taken by Napoleon in detaching Grouchy’s large force when he felt it necessary at the same time to warn Grouchy expressly that the Prussians might be intending to unite with the English.
However we may explain these apparent contradictions, they certainly existed in Napoleon’s mind and also in his actions. He was so sure of having only the Anglo-Dutch army to fight that he deliberately postponed attacking it until he could do so in the most approved style; he was confident that if the Prussians had gone in the direction of Wavre with the intention of joining the English or of attacking the French, Grouchy would return to him by the bridge of Moustier. And yet, from 1 P.M. of the afternoon of the 17th to 10 A.M. of the 18th, he sent Grouchy no orders, and no information. Where such is the lack of ordinary care on the part of the commanding general, a great deal surely must depend upon the energy and capacity of the subordinate.
While this was the general situation at the French headquarters, the Duke of Wellington, having with his customary carefulness set his army in battle array, was quietly waiting until it should suit his adversary to assault his lines. Every hour’s delay was a distinct gain to him; and he knew it. He knew, what Napoleon of course could not know, that the Prussians were on their way to attack the French and to join the English.
At the same time, it must not be supposed that the Duke had no cause for anxiety. Of the defects of his army he was well aware. No one knew better than he that such a conglomerate mass of troops as that which he commanded, consisting, too, in great part of raw and untried soldiers, could not possibly be equal to the well-appointed army of Napoleon’s veterans whose blows he was soon to receive. His only reliance, therefore, was on Blücher’s promised support. As Sir James Shaw-Kennedy well says:—[686]